


By Hints and Soft Suggestions

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Best Friends, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Happy Ending, Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, Mystery, Problems, Purely For My Enjoyment, Singing, Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arcee's fiddling with an ancient staff results in a de-aging accident, she and the others have to make sure their medic-turned-sparkling stays out of trouble. Fortunately, Ratchet knows how to get himself back to normal. UNfortunately, none of the other Bots seem to be listening...</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Hints and Soft Suggestions

Arcee should have known that touching the ancient Cybertronian staff Ratchet was examining was a bad idea. She _should’ve known_.

The realization of her own stupidity was belated, Arcee thought fleetingly as she yanked a wrench out of Ratchet's mouth.

"Stop that, Ratchet," she commanded. "I don't even know where you find all these tools to suck on, but it's not good for you!"

The little red and white sparkling whined, reaching for the stolen wrench.

"Awcee!" he pleaded. "Awceeeee!"

"If you tell me _you needed that_ ," Arcee growled, holding the wrench up threateningly, "I will melt it down and you'll never get it back again!"

Ratchet was silent as he bowed his head mournfully, hands sitting open and empty in his lap.

Arcee swallowed uneasily. "Ratchet...what do you want?"

"Something to pway with," the little Bot murmured, sniffling as he lifted his head again and stared at the wrench Arcee held.

"You can't have that right now," Arcee sighed. When Ratchet's wide teal optics welled, she added hastily, "But you can have someone else to talk to. C'mon." Hesitantly she slipped her arms around the medic-turned-sparkling and hoisted him off the medical berth, settling him against her hip. "Let's go call Optimus."

Ratchet immediately perked up at the familiar name, gasping in delight and nodding vigorously in agreement.

"I wish I were looking forward to it as much," Arcee muttered ruefully. She hated to be the one to break the news...

"Arcee, we read you," Optimus' voice crackled over the comm.. "Is something wrong?"

Before Arcee could answer, Ratchet leaned toward the computer speakers and squealed happily. "Ori!"

There was a long, shocked silence. Optimus cleared his throat rather awkwardly. "Um...Ratchet?"

Ratchet laughed gleefully. "Ori, will you make Awcee give me my toy back?"

"Arcee. We're on our way," Optimus said abruptly, ignoring the question and making Ratchet pout rather comically.

"Thank you," Arcee said in relief. "You can't come too soon."

 

Optimus transformed from his alt. mode almost before he was completely through the ground bridge Arcee had activated. He opened his mouth to ask a question but Arcee shook her head frantically, gesturing to the recharging sparkling who hung over her shoulder, arms securely locked around her neck.

Bridging through their internal comm. systems, Optimus sent to her, :What caused this?:

:The artifact we brought back,: Arcee replied, grimacing. :I'm sorry, Optimus. I would've contacted you sooner, but the little guy's been keeping me on my wheels constantly— :

Optimus cringed when Bulkhead zoomed through the bridge, voice booming over the screech of metal as he transformed.

"What was the big hurry, Arcee?" Bulkhead asked, laughing. "Ratchet acting like a sparkling again?" He froze as said sparkling stirred, blinking sluggishly. When he looked over his shoulder and saw the others, he became instantly alert.

"Ori, Ori, Ori!" Scrambling against Arcee's grip, Ratchet cried eagerly, "Pick me up! Pwease, Ori?"

Optimus laid aside feelings of hesitance and nostalgia at the ancient shortening of 'Orion'. He stepped forward, clasping his hands around Ratchet's body gingerly. He could easily crush him if he wasn't careful...Taking a steadying breath, the Prime settled Ratchet in his arms. Ratchet spread his own arms wide across Optimus' chest plate in a tiny hug.

Bulkhead approached cautiously, muttering in Optimus' audial, "Boss...what's wrong with Ratchet?"

"Nothing is wrong with him," Optimus answered as calmly as possible. "He has simply regressed into a sparkling."

"Regwessed," Ratchet echoed, stopping his hug so he could crane his head up and stare at Optimus solemnly.

"Yes," Optimus sighed, meeting his old—no, _young_ friend's gaze. "But don't worry, Ratchet. We're going to take care of you."

Ratchet beamed, nuzzling against Optimus' chest and softly singing a tune that meant nothing to anyone but him.

 

Bulkhead fidgeted in the corner as he watched the little Bot run back and forth across the base after Bumblebee, making imitations of weaponry firing.

Technically Bulkhead was supposed to be watching the little one while Optimus and Arcee were out studying the place where they'd found the artifact responsible for Ratchet's problem. When Bee had roared in from a drive, however, Bulkhead had practically begged him to take over.

Now the scout was cheerfully letting Ratchet tail him, buzzing when Ratchet asked and sending him into fits of laughter.

Bulkhead was _not_ good at babysitting. His past blunders with keeping the humans in line made that obvious...but dumping it on Bee? Bulkhead wondered if, when he had reverted back to normal, Ratchet would judge him for that.

"Blackhead!" a child voice cut into his musings. "Wanna play a Con in my game with Bubblebee?"

Bulkhead groaned as he stared down at Ratchet, who was jumping up and down at his feet. "Ratchet, please, it's _Bulkhead_! And he's _Bumblebee_ , not...whatever you said."

Ratchet looked puzzled for a moment before nodding. "Do you wanna be a Con in our game, Bucklehead?"

Bulkhead buried his face in his hands. Ratchet somehow took that as agreement and held up his hands like guns.

"You can't hide fwom the Autobots, Con! Bam, bam, you'we dead!"

As Ratchet ran off again, singing a nonsensical tune, Bulkhead muttered sadly, "How can he say 'Autobots' but not 'Bulkhead'?"

 

Bumblebee found it very strange but surprisingly enjoyable not being the youngest Autobot anymore. It was fun to have a break from the severity of war and take care of a sparkling who seemed to look up to him. Also, Ratchet's nickname for him, 'Bubblebee', was something Bee found too adorable for words.

After playing an _extremely_ gentle version of Lobbing, which included having to fashion a far smaller ball out of discarded scrap, Bumblebee picked up Ratchet and tucked him under one arm as he strode toward the kitchen. Ratchet wriggled fruitlessly, kicking his feet and protesting against the position.

Buzzing gently, Bumblebee sat the sparkling on a nearby platform as he fished an energon cube from their stock. He popped it open and was about to take a sip when Ratchet reached out for it.

"Can I have some?" he begged.

Bee nodded obligingly and, knowing the cube would be too big for Ratchet to drink out of, fished around and found an open packet of tiny tubes that Jack had brought one time from his restaurant. What did they call these things, 'straws'? Filing that question away, the scout stuck one in the cube and held it out for Ratchet.

Ratchet beamed adoringly at Bee and leaned forward. Before he could drink, however, he slid and toppled off the platform, yelping in dismay.

Bumblebee was too slow to catch him. Ratchet hit the ground with a loud clank, instantly releasing a heartbreaking wail. Throwing away the energon cube, Bumblebee scooped up Ratchet and began thumbing at the lubricant spilling down his little friend's cheeks, buzzing a frantic apology.

When he ran out of tears, Ratchet curled miserably against Bumblebee's chest, singing a choppy tune to comfort himself. Bee was bewildered by this; he was certain he'd heard Ratchet sing this same melody at least five times during his forced sparklinghood. What did it mean?

 

"So," Ratchet asked crossly as he sat up from the medical berth, "which of you _finally_ realized that my song was a set of reverse-frequencies for the staff's radiation output?"

"It was Bumblebee," Arcee replied, patting the triumphant scout's shoulder.

"I'm glad to see someone was using their head," Ratchet praised, rubbing Bumblebee's other shoulder approvingly. When the others glared at him, he returned it with a tiny, sheepish smile. "Thank you for...taking care of me."

"It was our pleasure," Arcee announced, digging an elbow into Bulkhead, who had opened his mouth to make an unneeded comment.

Ratchet didn't miss the move and coughed, calling up his cranky exterior. "So. I can trust you not to touch my experiments when they're on, right?"

"Of course," Arcee agreed hastily. She cast a glance toward the Prime who stood at the computer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "What would it have been like if it had been Optimus?"

"Much less fun," Optimus answered, overhearing with those eerily attuned audials of his. "I would have stayed with Ratchet at all times."

Ratchet smiled softly at the words, his processor bringing up the memory of two sparklings walking down the streets of Cybertron, arms linked together protectively.

_"Ori, will we always be friends? Will you stay with me?"_

_"Don't be silly! Of course I will. Forever and ever, at all times."_

_"We're gonna be old, though..."_

_"Then we'll be old friends. Trust me, Ratchet, from what I've seen, that's the best kind!"_

 


End file.
